


Ridiculously in love with the opposition

by qwanderer



Series: atTempted [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Assumed Unrequited Love, Dancing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mischief, Pining, Pre-Slash, attempts to incite jealousy, extraordinary amounts of alcohol, if "relationship" is really the word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 15:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwanderer/pseuds/qwanderer
Summary: Crowley pouts artistically, lips brushing Loki’s cheek. “Now why would you think I want anything here but a dance with an elegant creature like you?”“Oh, I don’t think we’re each other’s type,” Loki says confidently, nose chasing the lines of the snake tattoo in front of Crowley’s ear. “Far too similar.”





	Ridiculously in love with the opposition

There’s some kind of big climate change conference in London, and a lot of people are invested in the outcome. Not just humans, as some might assume. Some larger forces are in play. Or at least, some individuals who seem to represent larger forces, on occasion.

And then, there are the people who are there simply for the attention, or to make some trouble. Or for whatever reasons they may have in the privacy of their own heads. 

Loki recognizes the type, if not the individual, in the form of a not-quite-human creature lounging against the bar, wearing entirely inappropriate sunglasses. 

He looks the man (or at least man-shaped creature) up and down, and then smirks when he catches the curious look he’s getting in return. 

“Looking for a bit of mischief?” he asks.

The man beams at him. “Oh yes,” he says with relish, and he sweeps himself back onto his feet with a sinuous motion, holding out a hand in Loki’s direction. “Dance with me?”

“I think I’ll take you up on that,” Loki says. He settles his arm against the other man’s body, in the leading position. “My name is Loki.”

“Crowley,” the not-quite-human person says, and settles in against Loki’s body as if he is a fluid and Loki is the only source of gravity. “Mmm,” he says contemplatively, “now this is just the ticket.”

They’re close enough to each other that Loki expects someone to shoo them out the door for indecency at any moment. They’re also close enough to each other to make it clear that physically, this is doing absolutely nothing for either of them.

Perfect, Loki thinks. He smiles. “I’m beginning to think your reasons for being here are similar to mine,” he comments.

Crowley pouts artistically, lips brushing Loki’s cheek. “Now why would you think I want anything here but a dance with an elegant creature like you?”

“Oh, I don’t think we’re each other’s type,” Loki says confidently, nose chasing the lines of the snake tattoo in front of Crowley’s ear. “Far too similar.”

“Fair enough,” Crowley says, smirking himself, now. He leans in again to whisper in Loki’s ear. “Who are you wishing was on your arm right now, then?”

Loki breathes a laugh. He brushes his lips up the curve of Crowley’s neck as he replies, “You think I would just tell you?”

Crowley pulls a move with his hips that is definitely crossing the line for this formal of an event. “Not really, but then asking the questions people try to wriggle out of answering is kind of my thing.” He gives a little extra shimmy as he speaks the word ‘wriggle.’ Loki is delighted with his choice of partner in crime. Crowley continues, “What’s yours, I wonder?”

Loki grins. “Lying.”

Crowley laughs, rich and deep, and twines his arms around Loki’s neck. “Oh, yes, we make quite the pair.”

They pull each other closer, as if that were possible, and settle into the motions of the dance, or whatever version of the dance Crowley appears to be doing, which is more writhing than dancing, really, but it suits Loki’s purposes well enough.

The combination of the sunglasses and the minor glamour that they’ve been subtly warped into providing doesn’t hide the inhumanity of Crowley’s eyes from an illusionist as experienced as Loki, and he also catches the quick, darting glances Crowley seemingly can’t quite help sending to a particular corner of the room. 

Funny enough, it’s the same corner of the room that Loki has been endeavoring not to glance at visibly, either. 

And there are two men there, both in perfectly tailored three-piece suits, clutching glasses of very good scotch and staring at the dancing pair openly and looking distinctly red in the face. 

The one Crowley seems to have his eye on is dressed in slightly old-fashioned clothing, and has a dignified posture and bright sea-colored eyes that seem ready to sparkle with mischief at any given moment. Loki might consider mocking Crowley a little for this, except the one he’s avoiding looking at himself is a flash bastard who moves with fluid grace and who is wearing his dark hair in artfully tousled spikes above totally inappropriate sunglasses. 

“Come up to my room?” Crowley offers, and he’s right, this is the time to make their exit, before it becomes obvious to anyone else where their attention really is - and before they get thrown out.

-

They really do go back to Crowley’s room, and get spectacularly drunk. Loki has to break out a flask of the Asgardian stuff for this, and whatever Crowley actually is, it doesn’t seem to kill him. 

Later, he only remembers snippets of the conversation, and some bits he’s not sure which of them said what. But there are pieces:

“We’re going to war and he’s just there, casual as you please. Having a drink and discussing who’s going to win. ‘We’ll win.’ He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion.”

“I’m supposed to be the one associated with fire. I didn’t know what fire was until I saw his eyes when he’s determined to kick some ass and save the world.”

“He can’t love me back. He’s not allowed. He’s too good. I’m not made to be loved. That’s not what I’m for.”

He’s sort of glad he can’t remember the rest. But he’s also glad to have met someone who understands.


End file.
